


Teen Idle

by noodlerdoodler



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-11 01:26:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4415729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noodlerdoodler/pseuds/noodlerdoodler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I wanna be a virgin pure,<br/>A twenty first century whore."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teen Idle

**Author's Note:**

> It's just a short about Damara in some highschool AU. Based off that one great song that its named after.

Damara Megido didn't care anymore. Or at least, she pretended that she didn't care anymore. Deep down, under the slutty exterior, she actually cared a hell of a lot. But she couldn't let anybody know about that; she couldn't let them know about the feelings that she worked to keep hidden from everybody, including herself. Because feelings just got everyone hurt. 

She knew the rumours that surrounded her, she knew about the nasty words people were using to describe her. She knew about the people that stuck notes in her locker and about the people that whispered when she walked past in the corridor. She knew that, behind their back, their boyfriends were the ones that came to her in the bathroom stalls for a good time. Their girlfriends were the ones that she played around with on Saturday nights down at the clubs. 

She supposed that was one of the reasons that everybody talked about her like she was some kind of prostitute. Some girl for hire. What they didn't know was that, despite what they thought, nobody was paying her anything to get down and dirty. Nobody was asking her to do any of this. She just hung around and offered herself up to people and most people she knew were more than willing to bite, more than willing to play with her and accept her kisses. 

It wasn't love, none of this was about love, and she both knew and was content with that. She just liked the feeling that came after an orgasm, a split second where she would see the stars and swim among them. Everything would be white hot and burning and for a second, she could pretend that none of this was happening and she was somewhere else far away. Then, she would have to button her blouse up and leave before anybody could catch her there. 

She had very little to offer her comfort (the anime and manga she had loved when she was younger didn't seem to cut it anymore) but her cigarettes could. Before, after and during school, she would hang around outside with what people referred to as "the bad crowd". They often smoked more than cigarettes and gave her substances that almost made her drift away the same way that the orgasms did. 

But the things she loved most of all were the cigarettes and the way they cooked her lungs and lit her on fire like a pretty firework. She liked to roll them in between her fingers as they talked about nothing and everything all at once. They would discuss how much life sucked, which was the one thing that they could all agree on, because people that smoked and drunk in the early morning generally had pretty shitty lives. 

That was another thing that they would do, they would take it in turns to head into the store and flash their fake IDs before stealing away with alcohol in a brown paper bag. Sitting in a circle, they would pass it around and all take a swig from it. It was almost like they were friends but Damra knew that if she was asked to pick any of her accomplices out from a line up, she wouldn't be able to recognise a single face. 

Their fingers perhaps, she would be able to recognise. Fingers, like hers, with chapped polish painted on them and grit buried underneath them. Or perhaps their lips because she had pressed her up against more than enough of them, smeared her rust lipstick all over their faces whenever they were high enough to forget that they weren't friends. She would normally head home in the late afternoon, refusing their offers to spend evenings with them. 

She wouldn't face her mother or her sister, knowing exactly how they felt towards her. Her mother was so caught up in her work, desperately trying to support of all of them, so much so that she barely knew either of her daughters. As for her sister, she knew that she was too young to understand what Damara was going through. Really, Damara didn't even know what she was going through. How could she expect a thirteen year old to? 

Evenings were spent locked in her bedroom with a chair rammed under the door handle. She would have nothing to do; perhaps flick with little interest through a dirty manga, perhaps slid a finger up her own skirt, perhaps burn some magazines with her lighter. If they didn't catch, there were always books to burn. In their small house, lighting anything was playing a dangerous game but she didn't really care. She liked watching the flames catch. 

She normally succumbed to sliding her headphones on and playing the radio loud enough that she couldn't hear the chaos going on outside or in the other room. Sometimes, her mother brought men or women home because she was very like Damara in that way. But, unlike her daughter, she took money for it.

So, Damara would play the radio and listen to the voices, that she became accustomed to hearing after a while, and sit on the windowsill. She could smoke in here if she kept the window cracked open and she often did, meaning the room was hazy and made her cough most of the time. She could never get all the smoke out of the window. Thank god her mother never came in here because she didn't know how to explain herself if she did. Maybe she wouldn't even try. 

She'd normally fall asleep there, her neck and back cramping at the awkward sitting position and dead cigarette stubs collecting at her feet as she burnt out one after another. In the mornings, she'd chew gum for breakfast and head over to the school and the cycle would begin all over again: smoking, drinking, sex, home. 

A feeling of hopelessness began to wash over her day after day that she would be stuck like this forever and nothing would ever change. As her senior year rapidly approached, nothing seemed like it was going to change and she began to look at the popular girls that she had always scorned with a feeling of jealously. Because she wanted to be clean like them again instead of being covered in grime and other people's fingerprints. 

Maybe that was why she dyed her ratty hair blonde and began smoking different kinds of cigarette that smelt better. She chewed more gum to hide the taste in her mouth when she kissed the boys and the girls and ran her hands over their dirty, dirty skin. She felt filthy and she felt disgusting. But she tried to bleach the feelings away. 

Until she met him, Rufioh Nitram, who had made her feel like everything was going to change. It started with a quick fuck here, a quick fuck there and before she knew it, she was getting her panties in a twist about him in more ways than one. And he began to creep into her mind every time a hand slid up her skirt, whether it was hers or someone else's. 

He made her forget about everything for a while, longer than any of the others. God forbid but it seemed like she had actually fallen in love with him and she was stupid enough to think that he loved her back. But then, she'd found out what she really meant to him. He was using her as a distraction, as a side project and nothing else. She'd cried into cups of shitty coffee for weeks. 

That was when she realised that she was going to die alone, an unwanted whore, and she knew it. She just knew it. Perhaps that was why she thought about bringing about the end of this horrible life faster because that way, that way everything would end and it wouldn't hurt her anymore. None of this. It wouldn't hurt. Everything would just stop. 

Damara Megido didn't care anymore. She really, really didn't.


End file.
